The morning after the exposé, Blackhaven woke up angry.
Adam stood on the roof of his apartment building, watching the city stir. Smoke rose from a burned-out police cruiser on Fuller Street. Protesters clogged the intersection at Main and Fifth. News helicopters circled overhead like vultures.
“You started a war,” Sandra said, climbing up the fire escape to join him.
“No. I ended one.”
“This doesn't look like ending.”
She pointed to the south. A column of black smoke rose from the Docks. Another fire. Another message.
“Who's doing that?” Adam asked.
“Hard to say. Old loyalists trying to destroy evidence. Rival gangs taking advantage of the chaos. Or just people who are tired of being lied to.”
“Miller called. He said Harold Finch had a heart attack during his arrest. Died in the a
